Assimilate
by amshaw17
Summary: Hermione is thrown back in time to the year 1944, the school year is just starting. Her memories are a mess, she struggles to remember the smallest details of her life, including her name. Things are hard as she tries to fit in while hiding a scar she can't quite remember and the power she has to absorb knowledge. Her efforts fail when the head boy takes notice of her.


Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, I just love them! I've not had this beta'd and it was written over the course of two days. But I wanted to post it to see if the general idea of the story would be well received. That and I'm just doing this for fun! I plan to take my time for the remainder of the story and have a beta reader as well. Please let me know what you all think!

Also: This is a Tomione fanfic, so it's likely to get dark. I wouldn't take Tom any other way.

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Chapter One

Cold, everything is cold. Almond brown eyes open and stare up into a pitch black sky. "Where am I?" she asks the night, only to get no reply. The trees stand silently around her, but you can almost hear them whisper. She tries to sit up only to fall back flat on the rather unforgiving ground. "Umph," the air rushes from her lungs as a stone presses into her back piercing her flesh. Her eyes close as she tries to regulate her breathing and distract herself from the added pain.

It's while her eyes are closed that someone happens upon her. "Hey, are you okay?" they ask. She opens her eyes to meet those of an older man. He's staring down at her, the worry obvious on his weathered face.

"To tell you the truth, I'm not quite sure," she says still trying to figure out just why her body feels so bad. "My arm, in particular, is just throbbing." She's yet to look at it and she's not sure why. Something in her is screaming for her to keep the arm hidden least someone hurt her. Why would someone hurt me over my arm?

The man kneels down beside her and touches her arm with gloved hands. "Oh sweet Circe," the man gasps in horror. "Who did this to you child? Who carved this horrid word into your flesh?" His fingers tremble as they trace the word that's apparently on her arm.

"W-what word?" she asks. Every swear word she can think of runs through her mind. She's surprised by how many of them flutter around, it's like she's used to someone saying them often, only she doesn't recall who. With all the words she can think of nothing helps her to see why the man beside her would be so horrified if it was any of them. The whole carved into her skin thing sounds terrifying, yes, but she doesn't remember it so she finds that she isn't quite up to speed on the feeling horrified bit just yet. She's more focused on the confusion, the need to cover it, and pain in general.

The man's fingers trace each letter before he speaks again, "My dear someone engraved the word mudblood into your arm..." He looks into her eyes and she recognizes the pity that she sees there. But she still doesn't know why.

"I don't know what that means," she says her forehead wrinkling. She knows one thing about herself in that moment, she hates not knowing something. The man before her goes slack-jawed after her statement. "How bad is it?"

"It's one of the worst words I can think of to call someone...if not the worst," he says as he shakes his head. She wonders if he's ever encountered anyone else who didn't know what this supposedly horrid word meant. He probably hasn't. "I'll try to explain it to you after I get you to the nurse."

She looks around wondering where on earth a nurse could possibly be. There doesn't look to be a thing around for miles except for trees. She learns later that the magic simply makes it look that way. "Where are we going?" she asks after the struggle to get to her feet.

Her mouth pulls down into a frown as she takes in the man's shaking form. He had no business trying to pull her up she decides...he could've hurt himself as old as he most likely is. She herself isn't in any better condition, but that's beside the point.

"We are going to the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world, Hogwarts," he says between gulps of the fresh forest air. In spite of his labored breathing, she can hear the pride in his voice when he says the name of the school. But pride won't keep either of them on their feet. She reaches a hand out as if to hold on to him for support, but she means to offer it for him instead if he needs it. "And when we get there we are going to get you fixed right up okay?"

She nods her head and smiles at the kind man. She can't thank him enough. She's sure something much worse would've happened to her if he had not happened upon her first. Their walk is made in silence for a while before the man decides to break it.

"May I ask you your name my dear?" his question startles her out of her daze and she blinks at him for a moment as they come to a complete halt. It's only when he asks her if she's okay that she realizes they stopped because of her. "Are you quite alright other than the obvious injuries?"

"I- I'm not sure," she says. Her poor lip starts to bleed she's biting it so hard. "I'm not sure what my name is..." when she says the words out loud the reality of her situation begins to set in. She doesn't know her own name, which is indicative of amnesia and that's a horrible thing to have...she thinks. She's injured and she doesn't know how she came to be that way or why anyone would want to hurt her in such a way that it made a grown man quake.

"Oh dear...this is worse than I imagined..." the man says the look on his face grave. "We will get this sorted as soon as possible. I'll get Headmaster Dippet and Professor Dumbledore to help us as well when we arrive at the school."

She, of course, doesn't know who in the world those people are but she smiles to show she's thankful just as well. "I don't know my name but I'd like to know yours so I can thank you properly," she says when her smile falls from her lips. "It's only right after all."

"Oh silly me, I am Ogg, keeper of the keys and master of the grounds at Hogwarts," he says. His eyes are twinkling like fairy lights and she can tell he's proud of the position he holds.

"It's nice to meet you Mr. Ogg, and I sincerely thank you for all the help you've given me," she beams up at him and is rewarded with a rather blinding smile in return. "I don't know what would've happened to me out here if not for you sir, I'd say that makes you a Hero!"

She isn't sure where the enthusiasm comes from but she feels the need to make this man smile more. He has a look about him that makes her think he doesn't do it very often. And he's so kind...it's a shame.

"You are quite welcome my dear, it was my pleasure..."

A castle looms before them when they step out of the treeline. She's powerless to stop it when her jaw drops. It's absolutely magnificent. She's never seen anything quite like it...or she doesn't remember if she has at least. "It's beautiful," she says. "It's like something out of a dream..."

"I have that reaction every time I look at her," he says while staring up at Hogwarts with her. "I've been here for what feels like ages and the awe still hasn't worn off." The fondness in his voice makes her eager to get inside and see just what else there might be to this place. It surely all has to be just as amazing as this.

When they've had their fill of staring up at the castle Mr. Ogg laces her arm through his own and proceeds to walk her into the castle. "I'm so glad you could see the castle...I was a bit worried I was dealing with a muggle even after seeing that word on your arm." Once again her forehead wrinkles and confusion fills her making her that much more frustrated by her situation.

"I'm afraid I don't know the meaning of that word either Mr. Ogg," she says. "And I'm feeling quite dense as a result..." The only accurate word to describe the look on her face would be pouty. Mr. Ogg smiles at her whilst trying not to be amused by said look. It's quite adorable on her.

"You're not dense at all dear," he says. "Your vocabulary alone attests to that. I'll try my best to explain and maybe it'll jog your memory." He's too kind and she doesn't want him to go out of his way any more than he already has. But she finds herself nodding anyway. She desperately wants...no, needs to know what the word means. And the other one too.

"There's magic folk like you and me," he says. "We can see things like this castle because it hasn't been hidden from us. Then there are non magic folks or muggles, and they can't see this place because magic has hidden it from them."

She takes a moment to process his words and smiles. "That makes perfect sense thank you, Mr. Ogg," she says. "Can you tell me about the meaning of mudblood as well?" She's still smiling and the man winces at the cheer in her voice as that particular word leaves her lips.

"Aye, I'll tell you. But make no mistake about it. I meant it earlier when I said it was one of the worst things you could call a person..." he looks away from her as he thinks about the carving on her arm. He feels sick just thinking about it. "Let's sit right here for a moment my dear," he says before plopping down on a nearby bench. He needs to sit for this explanation.

He looks about the hall after she's joined him on the seat and sighs in relief. No students are roaming about so they shouldn't be overheard. He casts a quick silencing spell even still. He looks up to meet her eyes and the amazement on her face rivals the look she had when she first laid eyes on the castle. "What is it dear?" he asks. He finds that he really wants to know what could've possibly brought that look to her face.

"Your magic!" she exclaims. "That was amazing! Can I do that as well then?" Something tells her that she very well can. But she doesn't remember how, or she doesn't think she does anyway.

"My dear I'm sure you can!" he exclaims. "We will try to figure out what happened with your wand as well so you can get right back to it...a witch without her wand is unthinkable!" She nods excitedly and clasps her hands in her lap. The wound on her arm twinges at this angle but she forces herself to hold a reaction in. It won't do to have this kind man freak out for her sake. He's done more than enough already.

"Now I'm going to make this explanation short and to the point because you need medical attention. The term mudblood is a derogatory term used to refer to magic folk born from non-magic parents...or muggles," he says then he waits for her reaction.

The ever-present forehead wrinkle is back and she can't do anything but stare at him for a while. Then she's all fiery indignation and it's all her, even if she doesn't know it. "Wait a minute...why would there be any need for name calling like that? Don't Muggle-borns have the same type of magic as people with two magical parents? Or is there magic weaker?" Ogg watches in slight amusement when her magic makes her hair crackle and stand on end. It looks alive. weaker? I think not.

He nods his head, "Aye they do, that's why the words so foul. There are madmen who'd destroy every last Muggle born on this earth along with muggles because they deem them unworthy." He shakes his head a sad expression is on his face. "It's a shame. We could do so much more if we could all work together instead of this mess..."

"I don't get it," she mumbles. "I don't see why...I" She can't even finish her thought which she somehow knows is weird for her. Sorrow for herself and for others like her fills her chest. It's an ache that feels familiar; she doesn't like it one bit.

"I don't know either dear girl. If I could put a permanent end to the mess I would. I'd do just about anything to stop things like that from happening to you or anyone else again," he says while pointing to her forearm. "I'm glad you don't remember the incident and I hope it stays that way because it had to be hell..." He's got tears in his eyes for her benefit. That won't do.

"It hurts like nothing else I can remember," she mumbles. "I know that's not saying a whole lot but still. I'm glad I can't remember it as well...but don't cry Mr. Ogg I'm alive and I think that means more than any torture. It didn't break me, somehow I'm sure of that." She's beaming at him again, she can't get over his kindness. She knows it isn't so commonplace, by instinct and his explanation of the word mudblood alone.

"I'm sure you didn't," he says and means it. She seems very well put together in spite of her memory loss, malnutrition, and wounds. "Even so, let's get you back to one hundred percent so you can be prepared for anything else that might happen...mind you nothing terrible should! I've been told that this is the safest place on earth!"

She isn't sure he's right but she finds herself hoping that he is. This place somehow already feels like home. And she rather likes the feeling.

Mr. Ogg helps her to her feet and they make their way to the hospital wing. They are immediately accosted by a woman in a nurse's uniform and she finds that a name is on the tip of her tongue for this woman. She thinks the name starts with a p but she can't remember more than that.

She lets the woman fuss over her and places her in one of the many beds. It gives her a closer look at the nurse. So she studies her as she treats her wounds. No, this isn't the nurse I can't seem to remember...this is someone else... She doesn't know why the thought bothers her so much. But it does. She finds herself wishing this woman was someone she knew, even if she doesn't remember her entirely.

Though the castle feels like home, homesickness has still managed to find her. She closes her eyes and allows herself to relax against the rather itchy pillow. She's far from wanting to complain though, It feels much better than the forest floor after all. She knows they're talking and that most of the voices surrounding her are quite alarmed over the state she's in and most especially her arm. She doesn't open her eyes to try and assure them she's okay.

She just doesn't want to and the rest that she's getting now feels like the most rest she's had in years. She refuses to give it up. As such it doesn't take long for her to fall fast asleep. While she sleeps she dreams, and they aren't pleasant. A hand grabs her arm to shake her gently awake, whoever grabs her doesn't realize they're touching the carving in her flesh. She wakes screaming bloody murder, "IT'S NOT YOURS I SWEAR! WE DIDN'T TAKE IT!"

She flails around quite violently and almost knocks the person who woke her over in the process. Sharp gasps rattle from within her chest and her eyes scan the room frantically looking for her attacker. She doesn't even know who she's looking for, the dream still fresh in her mind is useless, her mind seems to be keeping the details from her. Surprise, surprise.

"Are you quite alright?" a male voice asks. As the sound of his voice washes over her, her breathing steadies almost immediately. My attacker was not a male. That one thought is enough to stop the panic that's trying to claw its way up from her throat and from her body. "I was hoping the rumors about your arm weren't true." He clears his throat and she works up the courage to meet his eyes.

Blue twinkling orbs are staring back at her. "I'm Albus Dumbledore, professor of Transfiguration, and I must admit my curiosity has gotten the better of me." He walks closer to the bed once again, he'd quickly backpedaled when she almost knocked him over moments before. "What's your name?"

She shrugs her shoulders, "I'm not sure, I think it begins with an H, but that's the only inkling I have to what it might be..." She's frowning and Albus Dumbledore is as well. He leans down and touches her shoulder in what she thinks is meant to be a gesture to show concern.

"I'm so sorry you can't remember your name. We are going to get you fixed up and then you'll stay here and attend classes as you're of school age still I would wager," he says. There isn't much room for objection but she doesn't feel the need to. She's fine with letting him figure things out for her. She trusts him for whatever reason. "I'll have Ogg fetch Ollivander to bring a few wands here for you to try since you don't need to be leaving bed just yet. I'm sure something will work for you. And as for clothing and books, I'll get those for you myself after your sorting into a house."

She sits up because she feels like this is an odd conversation to be having whilst laying down. Professor Dumbledore's hand falls from her shoulder and his palm lands on her own. He doesn't seem to notice at first and keeps talking. "The sorting hat will explain the houses to you as it goes about its business so don't you worry about being in the dark regarding the houses..."

Something he says triggers something, she's not sure what. But her palm begins to heat up, the sensation so uncomfortable she tries to throw his hand away from hers. But she finds she can't move it at all. A tingling sensation accompanies the heat and she can't breathe. What in the world is going on?

"Are you alright?" the professor's voice barely penetrates the fog surrounding her brain. "Ouch!" His cry of pain makes more of an impact on the fog that his question of her own well being. She blinks the fog away and winces as she tries once again to pull her burning hand away but it still won't budge.

She shudders and looks at their hands and is surprised to see words worming their way up from the palm of her hand and up her forearm. "W-what?" she's scared and she can tell the professor is too by the way he stiffens before her. "This isn't how magic works right?" she means for him to answer her question and he might very well have, but the fog descends again as the words creep higher up her arm and she can't hear a thing going on around her.

"The sorting hat used to belong to Godric Gryffindor and sorts students into one of the four Hogwarts houses. The houses are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. The hat assesses values and personalities to determine your house. It can sometimes be on the fence between two different houses," she blurts out. Professor Dumbledore's eyes search her face for any sign that she knew this information prior to the apparent melding of their hands. He doesn't think she did. Just to be certain he lets himself dive into her mind as gently as he can manage and all he finds there is the very information he's been told and the words she only just finished speaking out loud.

"My dear, you are quite right, and I'd say there's more than a case of Memory loss going on," he says when the dazed look leaves her eyes. "Between the word on you arm and that...we have our work cut out for us. I'm not sure what it was that just happened or what it might be called but you've got some gift going on there...and dare I say it could be quite dangerous if the wrong people were to find out you can absorb information this way. I'll help you keep it under wraps. Don't you worry."

She's still in shock and won't look up at him. The words scrawled over her skin appear to be in writing she somehow recognizes as her own. As she looks at the words she feels like maybe she's written them down before, quite some time ago. The burning has stopped thankfully, but the words don't look as if they plan to fade anytime soon. "Sir, if I'm to keep this a secret...I think some long sleeved clothing is in order..."

She looks up and his twinkling eyes meet hers again. "I think you might be right my dear, I think you might be right."


End file.
